


For a Good Time

by deandoesthingstome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fucking, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, au!dean, dom!Dean, mechanic!AU, mechanic!Dean, sub!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5991742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandoesthingstome/pseuds/deandoesthingstome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mechanic!AU in which Reader needs a job and Dean needs a bookkeeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Good Time

“Thought you said you were out of gas?” The tow truck driver was easy on the eyes, all tan and freckles, short, dirty blond hair and muscles stretching out the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He leaned into the driver’s side window where you were sitting trying to turn over the engine on the hand-me-down junker, cursing your sister for ever offering you the piece of shit, hunk of tin in the first place.

It had already been a used car when she bought it, but when she traded up for a new model after getting a raise at her job, she offered you the car for free. It had been working pretty fine at the time and she had a mechanic who kept it running for her if anything ever went wrong. She went on and on about how great he was.

“I thought I was.” You were exasperated.

“Yeah, well that sound? Or lack of? That’s not an out of gas sound.”

“Fuuuhhhcckk….” You did not have time for this. You needed to make a job interview. The time waiting for someone to answer the phone at this shop and for this guy to show up with gas was steadily dwindling the buffer zone you’d left.

When the wrecker showed up, he introduced himself as Dean and commented that he knew the car. Then he mentioned your sister and chuckled at how right she was that you weren’t going to be as good at bringing the car in for regular tune ups as she was. When you didn’t bite he got back to business.

“Pop the hood?” Dean rummaged around under the hood for a few moments and then dropped it slowly, pressing the metal into place with a final, firm push as he shook his head at you through the window. “No good. Alternator’s gone. I can tow you back to the shop, though.”

“How much?”

“Couple hundred.”

“Shit. If I don’t make this job interview, there’s no way I can afford that. And if this is the problem, doesn’t really seem like I’m making the job interview. Fuck!” You slumped against the steering wheel, about ready to cry and cursing your shitty luck.

“Hey. Hey. Where’s the interview? Maybe I can drop you off before I take the car back to the shop,” Dean offered. His face fell when you told him the address. “That is so far away. What are you looking for a job all the way over there for?”

“I’m looking for a job all the way over anywhere. Don’t know if you caught that last part, but I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Man, I’m sorry. But there’s no way I can take you all the way across town before heading back to the shop. I’m swamped today. You want a lift back with the car at least? Maybe catch a taxi from there?”

You agreed and after he hooked up the car, you climbed into the cab of the tow truck, perching precariously in your pencil skirt. You were suddenly aware of how far up your thigh the fabric had hitched when Dean climbed in next to you and you caught him glance down and let his gaze linger for a few seconds. You draped your thin sweater over your lap and tried to settle back, but these clothes sucked and did not fit in a tow truck anyway.

“Your sister never mentioned how pretty you were.” Dean had just thrown that out there. You blushed, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh, thanks? She also never told me her mechanic was Adonis.”

Dean gave a full belly laugh. “What’s the interview for?”

“What?” You were still a little thrown being in such close proximity to the smoldering good looks sitting next to you.

“What job did you want?”

“Is there a job where I can watch TV in my sweats all day and listen to classic rock while I’m baking pie when I’m bored with Netflix? That’s the job I want.” Dean tossed you a side eye and you continued. “Oh, you mean what job was I interviewing for? Bookkeeper, some little shop in some upcoming hipster neighborhood. Not my first choice, but you do what you have to, you know?”

“Seriously? Bookkeeper? You’re good with numbers?” Dean seemed excited.

“Yeah, why?”

“The shop’s a nightmare today because my front desk ran off with my tow truck driver this morning. Or last night. Or whenever. I was planning on putting in an ad today when I found a second to breathe.”

“Seriously?”

“You interested? I’d need you to answer phones and set up appointments. Collect balances. Pay shop bills. The whole shebang.”

“I’ve never done collections, but you’re talking about asking people to pay you what they owe, right? I can do that.”

Dean pulled into the shop lot, unlocked the front door and led you inside. The phone was ringing off the hook and he shot you a raised eyebrow that said “What are you waiting for?”

You felt conspicuously out of place in your high heels and silk blouse, but you rounded the counter and answered the phone like a pro. You fumbled for the appointment book (who still kept this shit in pen and paper?) and located a slot for a safety inspection, marking down name and number and hung up. Dean golf clapped for you and you gave him a deep curtsy.

The day moved swiftly. You called to let the other shop know you wouldn’t be in for the interview. Another mechanic showed up to help with the garage and Dean checked in on you a few times to see if you had any questions. You’d put your hair up in a bun and stuck a pencil in to secure it, because even with the shop fan blowing, the summer heat blasting in from the open garage bay was horrendous. He helped you navigate the register when a few customers came in to pick up their cars and you could have sworn you felt him inhale deeply as he leaned over your shoulder.

The sun was still bright by the time he shut the garage doors and sent his second mechanic home. He called over to you from the shop sink and asked you to stay to fill out paperwork.

“What do you think? Still want to help out around here?” Dean asked, dropping the towel he’d used to dry his hands on the counter and cracking a beer open from the mini fridge, handing it over before grabbing a second for himself. You watched him wrap his full, pick lips around the bottle, tongue darting out just before the glass touched his skin and you could have sworn while you were watching his mouth you saw his eyes flick to yours.

You nodded. “I think I can handle it. Though you may want to bring your books into the 21st century.”

“That’s fine. But can we keep this dress code?”

“What dress code is that?” you asked, innocently, even though he began to move closer and place his bottle on the counter.

“The one where you wear this tight skirt all day. I like it a lot.”

You were flushed now, realizing Dean was making the move on you that he’d been holding off all day. In answer, you took a step toward him, ‘cause you’d been hoping for this, too.

“Heels, too, sir?” you asked seductively, biting the side of your lower lip and eliciting a slight moan from Dean as his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh, sir, is it?” with another step closer.

“What else does one call their boss?”

“Sir is good.” His hands were on your hips now, smoothing over your skirt and urging you to take the final step towards him, eyebrow raised in a silent “are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. It is.” His mouth crashed into yours, lips latching onto you as he hitched your skirt up and bunched it at your hips.

You pulled away, gasping a little for air, then turned to stare at the giant plate glass window. “Got any place a bit more private, sir?”

Dean let go of your hips and grabbed a hand, pulling you back into the garage and flicking off the lights in the lobby. You followed his lead as he led you over to your own car and placed your back against the trunk. Then he went back to pushing your skirt up, fingers dragging along your thighs as he hooked them over the waistband of your panties and tugged them down with him as he knelt on the floor. You pulled the pencil from your hair and shook out your locks as he helped you step out of your underwear.

He gave you a devilish smirk before dropping hot kisses on the tops of your thighs as he nudged your legs wider apart. You held his head for balance and pulled in a sharp breath when he flicked his tongue forward and gave a little lick against your clit, already humming in anticipation. But you could not hold back the “Fuck” that fell from your lips when you felt his fingers reach inside you. In a flash they were gone.

“Fuck what, Y/N?” Dean called up to you, smirk still firmly planted on his perfectly chiseled face as he pulled away from your grasp.

“Fuck, sir. That felt good. Please don’t stop. Sir.” You reached forward to grab the side of his head again, curious if you could just put him back where you wanted him.

“So needy already? One more time,” Dean demanded with a low voice. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Dean, sir. Put your mouth on me, your fingers in me. Please.” You were desperate by now, this perfect specimen of a man on his knees in front of you, teasing you, making you beg for it. But he obliged as soon as you asked, lifting a still-heeled leg over his shoulder for better angle.

When he was done making you cum on his fingers and tongue, which had curled expertly inside your walls and swirled tantalizingly around your clit and licked gently between the folds, sucking and nibbling until you could take no more and were crying out “Fuck, yeah!” Dean dropped your leg back to the ground and stood to let you taste yourself on his lips. He put his fingers in your mouth and let out a moan as you sucked every last bit of your juice from his hand.

“I believe you meant Fuck yeah, sir.”

You popped his fingers from your mouth, darting a tongue out to tease a tip before answering, “Damn right I did.”

“Ooh, you are asking for it, aren’t you?” Dean growled, turning you roughly by the shoulders to face the car. He reached around and began to unbutton your blouse, pealing it off your arms and setting it on the back of the car. He ran his fingers down your arms, grabbing your wrists and placing your palms flat against the trunk. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You felt a sharp sting across your bare ass as Dean’s hand connected with flesh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it what?” you felt him breathe against your neck while his hand gently circled your butt cheek, soothing the ache before he gave you another little slap.

You gasped out, “Wouldn’t dream of it sir!”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean kissed down your spine and added a few more tender licks to your ass, caressing the cheek with his lips and wordlessly apologizing for the spanking. You moaned with desire and jutted your ass out towards him, begging for more attention. He just gave you another spank which sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your already sensitive pussy.

“I said don’t move.”

“Sorry, sir. I just.. I can’t help it. I want your hands all over me. Want you in me. Please, sir.”

Dean stood again and whispered in your ear while his hands moved smoothly up your sides and slid around front to squeeze at your bra-covered breasts. He found your pert nipples, pinching lightly through the fabric, eliciting another moan of pleasure from you.

“Tell me exactly what you want, Y/N.”

“I want you to fuck me, sir. I want you to slide your cock deep into my pussy and fuck me, sir.”

“How do you want it, Y/N?”

“Just like this, sir.” And you jutted your ass out again, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants.

Your head dropped and your eyes shut in anticipation as you heard him unzip his pants and drop them to the floor around his ankles. The tell-tale sounds of a condom wrapper opening explained the conspicuous absence of his hands on you but you soon felt him probing you from behind, fingering your clit again, slipping two fingers back inside your pussy, twisting and spreading you to prepare you for him.

He leaned forward again, lips brushing against your shoulder, up your neck, nibbling at your ear. The juxtaposition of this tender display of affection and the little game of Sir you were playing with one another was confusing you. You hadn’t really stopped to think about the implications. If this thing was a one time fuck, working here at the shop could be awkward. But the sweetness of his kisses against your skin made it feel like something else was happening. You did not want to get your hopes up.

Dean’s whisper in your ear blew any shot you had at not wishing for more from this. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You managed to whimper out a weak “Yes, sir,” turning your head to catch his mouth against yours, darting your tongue and moving your lips against him as you begged for it. “Fuck me.”

That’s all it really took. Dean was lined up and ready to go so as soon as he heard your plea he was inside you. One sharp thrust to the hilt and he stilled momentarily, allowing you to situate and acclimate. He dragged out and pushed back in slowly once, pausing again.

You dropped your head and begged again. “Dean, please. Just fuck me. I’m not gonna break.”

You didn’t have to ask a third time. Dean picked up speed and moved in and out of you rhythmically. The feeling was exquisite and you distinctly remember wishing it would never end. The heels you wore held your haunches high for him, letting him hit just the right spot any time he thrust just a tiny bit deeper.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart?” Dean called to you after the fourth or fifth sharp cry of pleasure escaping from your lips.

“Fuck yeah it is, sir.”

Dean reached forward and grabbed hold of your shoulders, tugging you gently so you were standing, back pressed against his heaving chest, bare, though you had no idea when he’d pulled off his shirt. He thrust up into you, moving his hands to your hips to hold you steady. His voice was low in your ear.

“You don’t have to call me that to get what you want, Y/N. Fuck you feel good. I’d stay in here all day if you’d let me.”

You reached an arm back to wrap around his neck, turning your head to meet his lips again. “I’d let you if my boss didn’t need me to work every now and then.”

You felt his smile against your kiss and then he was dragging his mouth across the skin of your neck again, kissing the nape of your neck and pushing you gently back down to rest on the hood of the car. He steadily hit your g-spot and implored you to cum.

“Wanna feel you squeeze tight around my cock, darling’. Cum for me.” His thrusts were getting wilder, more urgent, though he was doing a great job of holding on until you answered his plea. When you came screaming his name, he followed right after. He left his hand against your lower back, taking a moment or two to regain composure before sliding out. He urged you to stand one last time and turned you to face him so he could finish with a deep, slow kiss that threatened to send you over the edge again.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was amazing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

Dean had pulled off the condom and raised his pants, zipping and buckling them before turning to toss the used rubber in the shop trash. You took that as your queue to lower your skirt. You had no idea what Dean had done with your underwear so you just grabbed your blouse and began threading your arms through the sleeves. Dean returned and helped you button up before picking up his shirt and tossing it on.

“So, I was just kidding about the dress code. Jeans and t-shirt is fine.”

“I still have a job after all that?”

“You kidding?”

“Not really. I don’t want it to be awkward or anything. Like if things don’t…”

“Y/N, I don’t want this to sound creepy or anything, but I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What?”

“Your sister told me all about you. Tried to set us up once but I chickened out. I honestly think she imagined us meeting earlier; it’s kinda why she gave you the car.”

“Uh…?”

“Did you ever check the business card in the glove box?”

You started to move to the passenger side of your car and reached in through the open window to pop the glove box. “You mean the one I used to call you for a tow?”

Dean nodded and smiled at you as you turned to card over. Scrawled in your sister’s handwriting was the following:

“For a good time, call Dean.”


End file.
